React
by infantilejoy
Summary: React (v.): To act in response to something, such as an assailant. *Not really sure where at in the show this takes place. I keep certain people alive (not going to spoil it for those of you who haven't seen any of Season Seven) but I wouldn't exactly call it an AU.


Mother Nature stops for nothing, not even the end of the world. The tornado that ripped through Atlanta drove me out, killing most of my group in the process. I ended up with Nicole, who was my neighbor, Adam, the owner of the farm behind my house, Hunter, Adam's son, and Justin, a guy we picked up on the trek from our small Tennessee hometown to Atlanta.

We're pretty handy with weapons, which might be the only reason why six-year-old Hunter is still alive. Now, after the disaster, we lost twenty-seven people, which means less mouths to feed, but we also lost their fighting abilities and weapons. It's become dog-eats-dog out here. If we take the time to grieve, we all get eaten alive. I figure we'll have plenty of time for crying after this is all over.

"Twenty-seven people," Justin mutters, kicking a rock out of the road we're walking on. "Twenty-seven goddamn people who all had families. They had interests and hobbies. They had friends and pets and kids." He shakes his head angrily. "Twenty-seven."

I step around debris that I assume came from a nearby house. "Don't be like that. They didn't have families. We were their only family. Their families aren't people now."

"I didn't say they were," he says.

Surprisingly, Justin has been the only one really shaken up about this. Not even Hunter has had it in him to cry.

The sky is still green-gray, I note, looking up at the ominous clouds. I was never really that educated in weather, having not paid much attention in my fourth grade science class. I was always more of a literature kid. But I guess literature doesn't help much when you don't know how to tell if a couple of clouds mean business or not.

I'm snapped out of my thoughts when Hunter speaks up, his little voice sounding scared.

"Dad, my arm's bleeding again." I look back at the boy and his father, who has stopped to kneel down and look under the makeshift bandage on his son's arm.

"Let's take a break, guys," I say. "If he loses too much blood we ought to stay close to the hospital we found back there."

"He's bleeding through," Adam says quietly. "I thought it was healing. I don't understand why the cut came back open."

Hunter was sliced with flying debris during the storm. We were caught off-guard by the tornado, so our only shelter options were open ground or in a valley under a bridge.

"S'it hurt?" Adam asks him. Hunter shakes his head _yes_. "Looks infected," Adam says to me worriedly.

"He learns fast, that kid does. Didn't even make a sound during the storm," Justin notes. Hunter gives him a half smile.

"Put pressure on it," I direct Adam. I yank my backpack off and scramble to grab a roll of gauze I raided from the hospital I mentioned. "Justin, you keep watch. I'm not losing more people to a couple of long-dead sharks."

Justin nods and raises his pistol and adjusts the knife on his utility belt.

I throw the gauze to Adam and look for a tube of triple antibiotic ointment. Finding it at the bottom of my bag, I tear it out and run to put some on the gauze. Adam wraps it tightly around his son's arm a couple of times and rips it off with his teeth.

"We'll have to go back to the hospital so I can try to stitch it back up," I inform Adam. He shakes his head, confirming what I said.

"Shark," calls Justin quietly, so as to alert us and not more of these inhuman things.

He looks around for more and, finding only the one, grabs it by its right shoulder and uses his knife to debilitate its brain.

At the sound of the body thudding against the ground, slow pounding against a nearby house's front door behind to grow faster as more and more walkers gather against it.

"We have to go _now_ ," I say. "Those guys aren't going to stay locked in forever and if all of them get out-" We all glance at the door's window, which has dozens of grimy hands clawing and grasping at it. "We die," I finish. "And I'm not losing you now. I'm just not. So we gotta go."

Adam nods and picks his son up, being extra careful around the boy's injured arm.

"Justin. It's time to go."

The guy only glances at me and immediately I know something- something dangerous- is running through his mind.

"Why don't you understand, Laurel? These were all people!" He points to the banging hands behind the window.

"What are you suggesting? That we save them?"

His head ducks timidly.

"We _can't_ save them, Justin. There's no way. You get too close and they eat you. They _eat_ you, Justin! That's not human!" I glance over my shoulder at Adam and Hunter. The boy has his face tucked into his father's shoulder, likely silencing sobs.

"Laurel, please, we have to go. I can't lose my boy," Adam says softly.

"Justin, you either get left behind, or you come with us. We're not coming back for you if you choose to stay." I place a hand on his shoulder. The black fabric under my hand is gritty with dust and dirt.

The door window behind him cracks. The growls of the dead become louder than I thought they would. There must be more in there than I thought.

He takes a step back, holding up his hands.

"Fine. We're going, then." I turn on my heel and jog up to Adam, nodding and signaling for him to go.

The last thing I see before we turn onto another street is Justin holding up his arms horizontal to his shoulders, letting the escaping walkers surround him. He doesn't make a sound, just lets them destroy what was left of Justin Faulk.


End file.
